


Just Take A Breathe (And See)

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, There's like one curse word.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24252844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: In 1989, Jon's Voice is at its worse.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Just Take A Breathe (And See)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BneJovi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BneJovi/gifts).



Richie found Jon exactly where expected- on the roof. 

It wasn't an unfamiliar climb, having taken many elevators and many staircases to the roof on many occasions, pushed open many doors that hadn't meant to be open, both figuratively and literally, gone through and saw what was on the other side, braving whatever lay on the other side of the threshold in a chance to see what do few had. It'd always been a part of Richie's personality, his want to see new things, his need to be adventurous and climb as many hills as needed, if only to satisfy the urging. Usually, those climbs had been in company, but sometimes, you needed to climb the mountain and help the other person up with you. 

Which was exactly what Richie intended to do, with that same sort of passion that allowed him to bound out to every concert, every stage, and pretend that nobody was watching. One time, Dave had said so, half-asleep and talking to Richie with freedom that only an addled brain could allow. "That's part of what makes you so attractive." Dave had looked deadly serious while talking, and Richie tried to focus on how strangely articulate Dave sounded, in spite of his half-lidded eyes, instead of that. How Dave wasn't joking. "You've for your personality, which is great, my man, and your looks, which are, like, top-notch, and your guitar skills, which are amazing, of course, and then there's the fire." Richie, confused, had asked "what fire?" and, like Richie was being deliberately obtuse, Dave had glared and said, "That Fire, Rich. The passion, the gung-ho, the confidence, it's burning so bright that sometimes you gotta shield yourself from it, but it's there..." Dave's finger hovered in the air before he shoved it into Richie's Chest with surprising force, "Right There. You can't see, but we can, and it's fantastic, Man. Don't ever extinguish it." Dave really hadn't made sense, then, and Richie hadn't been keen to spend too much thought on it, especially since Dave had passed out literally give seconds after that last word, but now, pushing open the heavy door that allowed access to The Roof, He thought about it, and felt it, that raging fire within. 

Jon was sitting on the ledge, precariously, and Richie felt a jolt in his heart at how close Jon was, how one wrong move would send Jon over the edge. Richie, looking now at the rocks that lay beneath His Feet, remembered that time they'd climbed the roof, intent on seeing the stars, and though they'd both been freezing, it'd been the best night either could remember at that time. Now, it was a stupid, but loving memory, of the blanket beneath them, of Jon pressed up against Richie's side, how dark it'd been, how they couldn't see any stars but how amazing it had been, nonetheless. Richie felt a rush of sadness at the thought, because back then, They'd been so busy that They couldn't see themselves think that it had been so happy, still on the rush of having made it so far. Now, they're all tired, and you didn't have to be so close to see the increasingly jaded gaze in Jon's eyes. 

"Hey." Richie said, not wanting to startle Jon by coming too close without warning, and, like He'd been there all along, there was a faint nod and, as if sensing Richie's disapproval, Jon moved away, slowly but surely, from the edge. His Fingers were curled tightly around His Shoulders, holding onto the blanket wrapped around His Body, laying beneath him in an effort to ward off that familiar chill in the air. Richie wrapped His arms around Himself, without a blanket but with His Jacket on, stepped foward and sat down beside Jon, except Jon was sitting facing right, and that's where Richie was sitting, so it was more like sitting in front of him. "Its freezing, Babe. Aren't you cold?" Richie said, curling His Legs close to His Chest in a, mostly in vain, effort to keep warm. That only made the memories that much stronger.

Jon shrugged. There was no emotion on what little was visible of His Face, some of his jawline and his eyes, and Richie felt a flutter in his heart, that familiar feeling that had first happened back that one careful day, seeing Jon and the others preform and wanting, _needing,_ to be up there with them, to one day be famous with these guys that would soon enough become his family. 

And, for one of them, something more. 

Richie knew that, in a fierce change from his usually optimistic demeanor, Jon's Voice was never going to be the same. No more high-notes, not without help, at least. No long lapses of singing without hearing the damage done by too much performing and too little rest. Jon could fake it, sometimes, And He almost, _almost,_ would sound like same old Jon, fresh and new, belting out 'Runaway' like there as no stopping. But then it'd falter, and Jon would almost seemed to lose a little more of himself each time. Dave knew this, Tico knew this, Alec knew this, Richie knew this, and Jon knew this, that fact you couldn't ignore no matter how much you tried. Bon Jovi could and would still make it, but there had to be a change. But there was little that could be done, even with the steroids that Jon had to take. Richie knew that if Doc stopped being such a pain about letting Jon _rest,_ for Pete's sake, Richie knew it wouldn't be enough.

Below, A Siren sounded, long and drawn out, like a rising and falling cry, appearing and disappearing just as suddenly. Richie could see the flashing red lights, and then darkness and silence fell once more, a combination of nervousness and sadness and whatever else preventing what Richie had come up here to say, which was that no matter what happened, there wouldn't be a change. That Jon could be left without a voice, and Richie wouldn't leave. Jon could be blind and deaf and mute and Richie wouldn't ever leave, wouldn't walk out the door because no matter how much they drove each other crazy, there was love, and devotion, and a need to be close, to be able to look at Jon and see Him, whether it be across the room or right in bed, beside Richie, right where He belonged. 

_Don't ever extinguish it._

Richie took a deep breathe in, deep breathe out. Leaned over, caught Jon's hands in his own. "Jonny, it doesn't matter." And it came out in a rush, too loud, and Jon went to pull away, but Richie held tight. 

_I've been holding on since Day one, And I'm never letting go._

"I don't care what will happen, alright? We'll be okay, just like we always are. If they don't like your voice, then Fuck them, okay? Whatever you need, that's what's important, not them losing their minds about how you don't sound like you did before we let the pressure get to us." Richie couldn't tell if Jon was really listening, because there was no eye to eye contact, but Jon was still there, stating out into the night, and Richie had to try. "Yes, there's a chance that The band won't make it, and I might have to go work at a pizza place, and you might have to go back to working for Tony at the studio but that's nothing compared to what might happen if you keep singing and the worst comes true, understand me? Dave and Tico and Alec won't be mad, they'll be disappointed but they won't be mad at you, or me, and they can find another band to play in, can't they? And we'd all still be friends, that won't change, either." That was Jon's worst fear about this, Richie knew. Not the reaction of their fans, but what might happen to their friends, who'd trusted and believed and gone through Hell to make it this far. 

Jon let out a huff. Leaned foward, and it almost seemed like last time, Richie thought, as they adjusted themselves into a semi-comfortable position, Jon wrapping the blanket around both of them, still looking in thought but not as bad as before.

And that's where they stayed until the sun was nearly up beyond the horizon, until it became obvious they had to get back down if they wanted to avoid questions. 

As They climbed down the stairs, Jon took Richie's hand in his own, tracing his finger on Richie's skin, tilting his head toward Richie's long enough for Richie to catch what Jon was unable to say but wanted to elaborate- 

_Thank_ _you._


End file.
